


One Lazy Sunday Morning

by TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, Lazy Mornings, M/M, No penetration, POV Sam Winchester, PWP, Sensual Play, Wincest - Freeform, written in first person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen/pseuds/TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen
Summary: Sam is content to sleep in one lazy sunday morning.Dean has other intentions.A/N- written in first person from Sam's point of viewA slow sensual consideration of a lazy act of love.





	One Lazy Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> -I thought today I might try writing some PWP.  
> -Its an interesting choice to write it first person, present tense, from Sam's point of view, but I wanted to consider the sensations and this seemed like the best way to do it.  
> -As usual unbeta'd so apologies in advance for any errors.

I lay curled on my side. My head resting comfortably atop a pump pillow, warmth enveloping one side of my face. The slow deep breaths that expand and compress my chest cause warm air to ghost out of my nose, coasting away across the cotton. With each exhale a gentle huff of heat rebounds onto my cheek before drifting away. A pleasant contrast to the cool air of the room which flits back to tingle across my lips.

The bed is a firm line beneath my body. The gentle press along one side of my ribs, down my slim hip and on below my bent knees, replying to my weight with solid support. Firmness is tempered with a thick layer of foam, which allows me to sink deep into the comfort - embraced and cushioned without being constrained. 

The cover at some point has drifted down to rest across my bicep, leaving one shoulder exposed to the room. The line of coolness on my skin feels pleasant - sweet relief to the heat of my body. Snug cotton boxer-briefs encompass my hips, the material soft and worn, the elastic not too tight, nothing to cause any irritation. My lower body is nestled in the warmth beneath the blankets, but one languid foot at the bottom of the bed, peeks into the open air. Those toes lightly stroking back and forth along smooth cotton sheets, an unhurried shifting, causing only the lightest of swishing noises to sound in accompaniment to my breathing. The motion is tranquil and comforting.

Within the dark world behind my closed eyelids, I am suspended in that calm that drifts between waking and sleeping. That content lazy feeling where you are rested and have no reason to move. Nothing calling for your attention, nothing demanding you get up, no case that requires solving, no one in any immediate peril. Just the luxury to bask in your sensations and let the world turn on without you for a time.

There is one part of the world however, that is apparently not content to allow me my mediation and seems determined to intrude on my silence. 

The movement comes from behind me, causing the mattress to shift under me. A weight places itself against my neck, nestling into my shoulder. A chin spiked with the bristle of unshaven stubble. The light scratches of each tiny hair against my sensitive skin, backed by the new warmth of this second body. Further heat makes itself known along the length of my back, as if someone has placed a furnace behind me, although nothing yet makes contact. He is just biding his time.

Still lazy and untroubled I don't open my eyes, but sharp teeth clamp gently down on my earlobe, soft lips surrounding that small lobe of skin, reaching out to drag more into the warmth of a mouth before sucking back, then repeating, tugging with growing impatience. 

Hot breath puffs over the shell of my ear and out across my cheekbone and eyelid, as the teeth release their grip enough to whisper. “I know you’re not asleep Sammy.”

And I’m not, but what I am just now is indolent and comfortable and for once I intend to enjoy it. With a deep breath I gather enough air to answer. “Hmmmmm” but that is all the movement I indulge in, my body loose and relaxed.

Dean however is feeling persistent. The teeth return to catching and pulling, soft sparks of pain that are soon chased away by the soft pillow of lips and the warm wet caress of his tongue. He lays his ministrations to my earlobe, to the shell of my ear, then down to the sensitive crease just behind, before dipping into the corner under my jaw. It feels good - like lying in a patch of sunlight on a summer afternoon, feeling every muscle in your body soft and pliant, as the sun makes love to your skin. 

And like the blazing heat of the sun, I feel his fingers move to cover my shoulder. The broad palm that follows is rugged, the press of his hand enough for me to feel that strength like silk covered steel, but though firm the hold remains gentle. The calluses that decorate his skin, softly catch as his hand passes over the swell of my deltoid. His fingers inching, mock crawling, across my broad chest, until they discover their prize. 

Goosebumps shiver the skin over my pecs and down past abs. The muscles underneath tightening minutely. The flesh around my nipple tightens and the small nub stands to attention as Dean scrapes his nails lightly back and forth. Electricity zinging from his touch.

My chest expands under the warm weight of his arm as my breathing decides to pick up. I feel the first clench of fire low in my groin. A light prickling as the blood within my body finds a new direction in which to travel. This time my “hmmmmm” has more appreciation. I can’t help but turn my head and then my whole body further into his spectacular warmth.

I roll to lay on my back, my head rotating against the pillow. The covers have slipped further down as I moved and the newly exposed skin tingles in the cool of the room. But Dean blazes hot, like a fire let loose in a forest, and is pressed firmly into my side. His strong fingertips with work roughened skin, tug and pinch at my nipple. His stubbled jaw grazing my own as he leans over, plump perfect lips exploring across my face, the air from his lungs ghosting over my cheeks. And my eyes can't help but creep open.

The light in the room is dim but golden, a single lamp far away from the bed, laying its warm glow across our bodies. It's just enough to catch the green of his eyes as he studies me. Those eyes that I know better then I know my own face. I can see every crease, every fleck of gold that balances the emerald in his irises, and the strong thick brown lashes that curve gracefully around them, topping perfect tan cheeks swept with freckles. His eyes are soft lidded as he dips in his head. His nose rubbing along mine, before his lips find my own. The gentle catches of his lush pink mouth against my dry skin, as he decorates my lips with tiny butterfly presses. His tongue slipping from between his teeth to lath warm wetness onto my mouth, so that the catch and slide of our movements becomes smooth and slick. 

When his tongue once more makes contact with my lips, but this time pushes firmly at the crease, I gladly open up to allow him entrance, the word “Dean” slipping out of my throat almost unbidden and moaned softly around the intrusion. My lazy calm now disappeared, like water down a drain.

Of it’s own accord, my hand comes up to grasp at the back of Dean’s neck. The silky short spikes of his hair, thrilling along the sides of my fingers, as I dig hard into that warm skin. Squeezing down tight before stretching out searching fingertips to cradle the curve of his skull - pulling him in firm, keeping that delicious contact of his lips working against mine. The response is enthusiastic, like his reaction at the first scent of apple pie, he needs no encouragement.

My hair will soon look like a haystack, I am shifting my head back and forth in the pillow, restlessly chasing his lips. I don't care. All that matters to me in this moment is the press of his heat, the restless caress of his skin, the blood thrilling within my body and the growing weight in my groin.

Dean has taken the hand that was torturing my nipple and now has it pressed low to my abdomen. I can feel my muscles bunched under the heat of his palm. His fingers pointing down, are inches shy from the dark curls within the cotton of my boxers. If he just pushed on a little further he could slip fingers under the covers and inside the elastic and rake his nails through the wiry hair before taking command of that most urgent part of me. The idea is immediate and exciting. My hips begin to rock and all the muscles from my lower back down to my arse clench and release. 

Blood is now heavy and full in my cock, the tightness of the straining muscle calling for my attention, the heat building low in my sack demanding I give it satisfaction. Dean groans as he takes note of my agitation and my increasingly obvious erection tenting the covers with every shift of my hips. He lifts his hand from my stomach and grasps at the blankets, pulling them away from me, before surging over to replace them with his own body.

His weight is delicious as I shift my long legs to allow him to settle into the v. His face now raised directly above me, his arms bracketed around my head. The heavy press of his broad chest against mine. If I concentrate, I can feel the small peaks of his nipples, peaked hard just like mine, pressing lightly against my pecs. The muscles along his ribs and down his stomach require no special concentration, crushing firmly into my own, not a hint of breath between us, hot skin enticing hot skin. 

Travelling downwards there’s the interruption of our boxer-briefs, soft cotton changing the sensations, but not blocking out the heat, as the hard line of my cock is pressed into the crease of his hip. An answering hardness laid alongside my own. Then once again the phenomenal sensation of bare flesh against mine, as I feel his strong legs gripped tight between my thighs. Short hairs catch and tingle against the drag, as I restlessly move my calf up and down the gentle bow if his leg.

My hands lift up from the bed to curve around his ribs, past strong obliques and onto his back. Fingertips pressing into the valley of his spine, palms clutching to the broad swells of muscles either side. I can’t help but pull him in towards me, hips rolling with the spine-tingling pleasure. My hands sail down to caress the firm rise of his arse, sliding under the cotton of his boxers to feel the glorious heat of that smooth perfect skin. My fingertips spreading and digging, nails scraping lightly just to feel his muscles twitch and bunch, to hear the moans that pour from his lips, rumbling first against my chest. The hot air on my face as he whispers “Sammy” and our hips surge and roll in unison.

I feel like I am laying in a sauna, the blood burning under my flushed skin, pricks of sweat breaking out where the furnace of his form touches mine. But it just means that our bodies slide against each other with more ease. My hips surging like storm driven waves upon a beach - the strong clench of my quads rolling up to my arse, as I curl my spine with every motion, heels pressing into the bed, every muscle straining, thrusting the desperate hardness of my cock into the solid embrace of my brother’s body.

My hands drift reluctantly from the globes of Dean’s arse and follow upwards the graceful line of his spine. My fingertips as they travel ghost over scars and light puckers, and for every one my memory supplies a story - the number of stitches I had laid in that wound, the blow that he had taken while pushing me out the way, the burn that had caught him as we stood side by side to take down a Wendigo. Single testaments to a thousand reasons defining the love I hold in my heart towards this wild force of nature, content to be caged within my arms. 

Finally my fingertips find their home on the tops of his shoulders. My arms curled up under his armpits, damp palms welded above tightly bunching shoulder blades - it's all I can do to hang on. 

His breath thunders across my mouth, each punch of warm air an explosion. Our mouths wide and gasping, lips meeting as we surge, the breath dragged from his lungs and swept into mine, only for me to feed it right back to him.

My actions become frantic, sweat slicked muscles start to tremble in exertion. The all-consuming pressure in my cock as I grind desperately upwards, the sweat and pre-come soaked cotton bunching and dragging in sweat torture, friction like the sear of a branding iron, in the hot secret space between us. The blood pounding in my veins, the compulsive clenching in my groin, all rising and rising like an approaching tidal wave. 

With a great heave of my muscles, every ounce of strength I have left, I dig my heels into the mattress, thrust up my hips and throw back my head. And the wave comes crashing into the shore.

The world is swept over in white, my spine curved to its extremity, every fiber in my body clenched to the point of destruction, the breath seizing in my lungs - as out from my groin explodes with the force of a nuclear bomb, a wave of pure heat and exhilaration. The shock wave cresting and growing and punching out through my body - and I can do nothing but be overwhelmed. 

As I come slowly back to myself and the image of the ceiling resolves above my dazed eyes, my body sinks into the firm embrace of the mattress, allowing the aftershocks to skitter up my spine. I feel languid and loose and boneless, my head empty of thought in the soft and glorious buzzing of silence. 

Dean’s face is buried in my neck, I can feel his eyes are squeezed shut, the laugh lines that grace his cheek press into my skin, the tendons in his neck still filled with tension. He thrusts blindly into the wet heat against my body, seeking that final completion. My breath whispers hot into the shell of his ear, “Come for me.”

His sweet weight presses down hard into my body, every muscle in his back goes ridged under my loose grip. The air smashes out of his chest, a mangled groan that sounds something like “Sammy”, and I feel hot come flood across my stomach, squeezed between our tightly pressed skin. Soaked cotton doing nothing but directing the flow. 

His stomach jumps and trembles against my own, as I feel him finally relax. A wet kiss presses into my cheek and our two bodies lay still, blissfully exhausted. The heat almost visible as it rises from bare flesh, the cool air suddenly apparent to our senses. I am encompassed in the soft bonds of an immovable cage, and I have no desire to move. Though the sweat cools and the moisture begins to pool between us, I am content, our chests rise and fall languidly together, and my eyes slip gently closed to bask in the sensation. 

Its one of those lazy times where you hover somewhere between waking and sleeping, and later reality will intrude once again - but for now my brain is switched off and I drift on the warm currents of love and contentment, and let everything else pass me by.


End file.
